


Abandon

by avidvampirehunter



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (Links Provided), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Based on the Reylo Comic "Maroon" by Selunchen, Body Worship, Consensual Sex, Cunnilingus, Dry Humping, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Rated E for Extreme Virgins Virgining Virginally, Redeemed Ben Solo, Romance, Smut, The Force Doesn't Care About Refractory Periods, Virgin Ben Solo, Virgin Rey, awkward virgins, canonverse, kissing/ making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidvampirehunter/pseuds/avidvampirehunter
Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away….It’s a night of celebration in the galaxy. The once Kylo Ren has signed a peace treaty with the Galactic Concordance, and hope is finally being restored, bit by bit.Away from the din of the festivities, Ben Solo and Rey of Jakku have secluded themselves on the beautiful coast of Coruscant, where a moment of passion has left them wondering what’s to follow….(Sequel to Selunchen’s “Maroon”)





	Abandon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [selunchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/selunchen/gifts).



> Hello! Thanks for reading. I also want to thank Selunchen for all her incredible contributions to the Reylo fandom, including her recent (as of this post date) comic, "Maroon." (And also her remarkable fanart for my fic, Glory's Fray, which never fails to make me cry tears of joy).
> 
> Because this work is a sequel to said comic, you can read [Part One](https://selunchen.tumblr.com/post/177417624572/maroon-m%C9%99%CB%88ru%CB%90n-leave-someone-trapped-and) and [Part Two](https://selunchensart.tumblr.com/post/180073289058/selunchen-maroon-m%C9%99%CB%88ru%CB%90nleave-someone) for full context~
> 
> Happy Reading!

* * *

 

> _Abandon:_
> 
> _(noun)_
> 
> _a complete lack of inhibition or restraint_
> 
>  

* * *

The touch of his lips was not how she imagined it to be.

Perhaps she had imagined something hard, or something cruel. In the fleeting moments that passed through her mind in the night—faster than whirring stars beyond viewport windows at hyperspeed—the uninvited fantasy of such intimacies plagued her only with brief glimpses into something she’d dared not explore.

But now, she cannot help such explorations, for the touch of his lips, of his kiss, is not cruel at all—but soft, methodical, slow, and warm. The chilling tip of his nose presses into her cheek as his arm secures around her, as she holds fast to him, time an insect to the impenetrable shields of this moment where they fit so perfectly together.

Rey parts to breathe, if only for a second, her eyes still closed, her lips perked up in the slightest of smiles beneath the sparks fading in her mouth. And when she opens her eyes he is there, the stars shining in his gaze—trained unwaveringly on her own.

Realization sinks into her then, manifest in the quiet din of the Force energy surrounding them, that what they’ve done can never be retracted—or regretted.

In that thought she notices the faintest dust of rose on his cheeks, uncertain if it’s entirely from the chill of the evening, or something else. His neck lurches in slight, as if to kiss her again, but when he hesitates so does she, confused on how to proceed with these new sensations flitting busily about in her mind.

She falters. “Oh, I—"  
“—That, you—”

They interrupt the other in something not quite distress, something perhaps just short of warm panic. They both loosen their hold on the other politely, Rey offering the smallest of apologetic smiles before withdrawing into herself, unaware of Ben’s dazed expression trailing after her.

A breeze wades inland from the sea, soaking through Rey’s exposed shoulders. She shivers, holding her arms as gooseflesh spreads across her skin.

She can feel his worry as he looks at her, his voice low. “You’re cold.”

Rey offers a smile, half-hearted and rueful. How little he is aware of how warm she’d just been only moments ago! “Lots of places are cold to me,” she says instead, pointedly releasing her hold on her body. “I’ll be alright.”

“Ah,” Ben concedes, her open gesture seemingly drawing his attention. His eyes pause in their journey down, and that flush she’d glimpsed before reemerges—violently—before he tears them away, clearing his throat with a pinched, almost pained expression.

Her curiosity piques at what she could have done to offend him so, and looks down. A drop of mortification bleeds through her as she notices her nipples have not only reacted to the cold, but made their chilled arousal evident through the soft fabric of her gown.

Embarrassed—though not as much as she certainly could be—she crosses her arms over her chest, wondering whether Ben had looked away to feed his self-perceived chivalry, or merely because they weren’t much worth any scrutiny.

“Still,” he murmurs, interrupting her thoughts. She spots how his eyes flit carefully away from her, burning into the towering spire of the hotel. “This wind won’t help.”

Rey’s intuition has always been rather sharp. Now that she has experienced the penetrating power of the Force, she has often guessed whether it was ever all her, or all Force, or something in-between, that gave her the tools she needed to survive.

But now, as she hears the strange way his voice falters, feels the heat rolling off his body, sees how tight his features have become, neither theory matters so much as the notion of what he may be proposing.

 _Is he really…?_ She blanches. It takes a mere moment of deliberation to decide that, yes, he is, and that, yes, she is—rising to her feet with the smallest of willing smiles, pulling his gloved hand into her own. When he looks at her with wide, questioning eyes, she nods, admiring the way they reflect the moon’s brilliant shine. “Alright,” she whispers.

He continues to stare dumbly at her, his thoughts a blank wavelength, barely a smudge in the Force, before he rises and leads on, his hold so warm and gentle that it’s loose around her fingers, shrouding her with uncertainty and welcome recklessness.

As they ascend he seems to remember himself, unfastening and slipping his cape from his shoulders. His movements are stiff yet precise as he drapes it around her shoulders, silently offering no room for argument. Rey accepts it—too chilled to even think of resisting his gesture, the night passing by in the rapid, dark slur of dreams.

It isn’t until they return to the rumbling cacophony of the party that reality returns with its cold awakening, a sudden dread falling over them both. There is no choice: they will have to move through.

Though Rey falters for only a moment, she can sense the determination etch into Ben’s stony features. He sets his shoulders, keeps his chin high, and together they filter through.

It’s an awkward affair for Rey, who keeps her eyes averted, not wanting to catch the gazes she feels trailing after them. As they are halted by a well-dressed Blebian who speaks in gurgles that Ben—unsurprisingly—understands, Rey dares look up. A group of women suddenly turn away, laughing amongst themselves.

Something inside of Rey darkens at the sight, her hand tightening over Ben’s cape. Thoughts swirl dangerously in her mind as she frowns at her feet, black and consuming—thoughts that remind her of who she is, and who she is with. That neither of them will ever truly be free.

As if sensing this, she can feel attention on them, a once familiar presence tinged with sour curiosity. She looks up, freezing as she spots Finn and Rose moving towards them. She snags Ben's hand and tugs him away, weaving into the tapestry of the crowd. He doesn't ask questions.

The feeling persists, festering as they finally maneuver back to the courtyard of the hotel. It’s made from rare brick and mortar, ragged yet even underfoot, fountains a trickling transition into quiet.

No one stops them as they move to the elevator, though Rey knows they aren’t going in unseen. Ben seems unfazed by this, but his gaze is half-distant all the same, flickering back and forth with hers. They are still for a moment before he depresses the button with folded lips. An air of finality closes upon them in the form of blast doors.

And then they are alone.

Rey watches as he unclasps his hands from their shared hold over his lap, wondering both why he hasn’t reclaimed hers and why he selects the uppermost option, entering a code into the keypad that sends the lift whirring rapidly upwards.

“Top floor?” Rey murmurs, nearly wincing at her harrowing attempt at small-talk as her heart hammers in her throat.

Ben nods. “Yes.”

Curious, Rey squints at the closed doors, as if she could find answers written there—when both know there are none to be found. “Why? Are they worried you’ll escape?”

“It would be wise of them to plan for it.”

She finally looks at him, his flesh pale and shadowed under the fluorescent light, his eyes dark and trained carefully on hers. “You don’t think so,” she reads.

His lips barely move when he replies—plush and soft and inviting. “I don’t.”

There’s something else in his voice when he speaks, the force of it sending her searching through her reasoning to know what it could mean—what _else_ it could mean. But before she can decide the blast doors are opening again, soft light gasping awake, waiting for them.

Rey leaves first, surprised by the plush give of the carpet under her feet. Tentatively, she steps out of her slippers, relishing the softness underfoot as she pads further into the chamber, closer and closer to an arching viewscreen window. She looks out and down, down down down, the lights of the city blinking like fallen stars.

“It’s screened,” Ben offers, lumbering in behind her. He comes beside her to look down—as though on everyone, yet nothing at all. “No one will see us here.”

The notion is both damning and exhilarating, cold and true as the blast doors slide shut, leaving them in ambience. It shivers down Rey’s spine with a strange, persistent nudge, and she shudders away from the window.

He looks after her rigidly as she spots the bed—crisp and perfectly made. And _large_.

As if sensing her lapsing confidence, Ben shifts, mumbling something she doesn’t hear. She watches blankly as he wanders purposefully  to a panel in the wall, his gloved finger pressing hard against the screen.

Rey sits on the edge of the bed, holding his cape fast over her shoulders, wondering at him—at how they got here, when they were just a breath away from the other amongst the sighing ocean swell. And before that, when they were lightyears apart. From here he could almost be a normal man, and she a normal woman, and neither a part of anything else.

He turns to her stiffly, approaching with as much care as his gait will allow, and hands her a steaming mug of… something.

“Corellian cider,” he murmurs, sitting next to her at a thigh’s distance. The bed dips drastically beneath him.

He keeps his eyes trained forward, swallowing nothing. Rey watches as his throat bobs in the dim before turning her attention to the mug, bringing it to her nose and inhaling the musk and spice of heat and Corellian apples—which Rose was so kind to introduce her to.

It’s quiet, unearthly quiet, as she drinks, holding the mug with both hands as its warmth sinks into her bones, flowing down her throat and scalding blissfully into her stomach. She can feel it thaw her, ply her from within, easing the tension in her shoulders.

Ben, however, offers no such idea of calm. When she’s finished he clears his throat, gestures for the mug, and plucks it out of her grasp, making for the panel again.

Every step he takes pulls something inside of her with him, a feeling of unraveling, like thread from a spool. Naked and exposed. And with this feeling she does as she has always done, hardening her will into fiery resolve. It chafes and burns in her skin, and in the fire she stands forged, shedding Ben’s cloak, then her sleeves, then the bodice of her gown.

The shuffle and rustle of cloth doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and when she stands fully—in only her skivvies—his eyes nearly burst from his skull, the mug shattering in his hand.

A feeling not quite regret pulses through her, but she doesn’t move to cross her arms over her breasts, watching with a strange, new sensation as he devours her with his gaze. Something powerful.

He works his lips in that way he does when considering something too much, his brow furrowed, expression pinched. In the low light of the room Rey sees an unmistakable color dust over his cheeks. He comes closer, then, and when Rey sucks in a breath, prepared for some commanding onslaught—he deviates.

Rey blinks as he shuffles away from her, sitting heavily on the side of the bed. She watches, bewildered, from its foot as he braces his palms to his knees, fingers tight.

Remorse grips her by the spine. Had she misunderstood his intentions? Her own? Desire had gripped her so suddenly—a desire to end this ache. A desire for _him_. To touch her. To teach them both something only they could learn. Together.

Then something, an energy, crackles through the air, snapping him into a quick and thoughtless fumble at the intricate fastenings of his tunic.

Rey moves closer, the closing distance like a tether, that energy pulsing gently, instantly, under her skin. It injects her with every heartbeat—dripping authority into her veins, each throb her body’s assurance that she is in control.

“Gloves first,” she orders, breathing shallowly.

His lip trembles, but he obeys, stripping his fingers without any pretense of decorum. It’s affirming to her, washing her in warmth and affection no amount of shelter or drink could give.

She approaches slowly as he works at his complicated clothing, too aware of how his eyes refuse to abandon her bare feet. His stare is pained, focused yet distant—as though distracted by something she cannot see.

Rey has spent her life ignored—left beyond where anyone could see. But here he sits, this man who understands what going unseen means, and in that she finds the voice buried deep in her gut. A voice raw and _hers._

“Ben.”

He looks up, fingers freezing as their eyes meet. The Force hums as their gazes fasten, coiled and embedded like a live wire in her skin. His lips lie parted, air hissing in and out faster than normal, as though exhausted. Exhilerated. Through this bond they share, still so fragile and new, her heart suddenly feels too large in her chest—not hers at all—thumping too wildly, too dizzily to allow anything but a step closer; a trembling stand between his legs, a silent plea.

He exhales deeply, the sound trembling through her as he lifts a slow hand, reaching for her. The question in his eyes fades to wonder as she makes no move to stop him—his fingers shaking as they brush the sensitive skin if her stomach.

Rey shivers, torn between closing her eyes to savor his touch, or keep them open and watch as his arm jolts into place, the mere brush of his fingertips searing through them both.

He finds her eyes again. “You—”

“I felt it, too,” Rey nods, knowing what he means. This energy between them continues to build, wave after wave, a heady pulse, subtle but consuming, intangible yet present. _There._

He swallows, his dark eyes dancing over her, dazed. He brings his other hand to join its twin, resting them on her hips. They are hot. Heavy palms radiating the heat of a dying star. His thumbs trace in gentle arcs, as if savoring the feel of her, as he moves in upward strokes, stopping shy of her breasts as he teases their soft, tender plush at their bases.

Rey shudders, anticipation and pleasure at war with the other, twining around her bones. His eyes remain level with her breasts and he swallows her with them—a quiet appraisal of her partial nudity.  He looks to them, then to her, yearning for approval.

When she nods, breath escaping her hold, he doesn’t hesitate. He shifts his fingers, so thick and faintly calloused, along her sternum. They rest over her heart and she is certain he can feel how hard it beats for this, ticking seconds away between her need and the satisfaction of his massive palm engulfing her breast, taking her in his hand,

Before Rey can adjust to this feeling, his fingers tighten in a sidden vise. She hisses a quiet warning—he understands, offering her an apologetic stare before trying again, gentler this time. He trails a soothing, hypnotic caress along her sensitive skin, his thumbs gently scraping her hardened nipples. It feels like too much—but not enough.

Her mouth waters and she swallows, her nerves shot down to her toes as he wets his lips, his other hand moving to copy the other in easy, squeezing circles.

Even in the barren wastelands of Jakku, in her youth and solitude, Rey had never felt so vulnerable. Never so exposed—nor so willingly. He draws something desperate from her throat, easing it out of her with the warmth of his hands. She can’t bear this for too much longer, and finds herself witness to her hands grabbing at his tunic, yanking at the stubborn cloth of his overcoat.

She’s strong enough to pull him closer—or perhaps he is weak enough to allow it—and they move to remove it as much as four hands will permit. It’s unsteady, rocky and tumultuous, the wavelength they share fighting to align with the warring currents until at last his torso is bared to her again, as marred yet compelling as that night she first saw him so.

She lifts her leg to kneel at the bed, wanting him closer, yearning for that energy again, and he understands, pulling her onto him. Her legs spread wide to straddle the generous bulk of his hips and thighs, her heart hammering against the dip of her neck.

He presses his mouth there, as though sensing it, and bows to rest his head at her collar. His every breath comes ragged, almost gasping, his body inflating under her hands as she clings to him, feeling as his emotions overflow and pour into her. _This is really happening,_ they feel, as his hands drift down her spine, savoring her. As the sharp jut of his nose probes her sternum.

As he struggles to catch his breath, Rey lolls under the power of him within the Force, their bare skin adding friction to the kindling—stroking the flames, flickering in them with neither light nor darkness, but something _more._

She reaches out to touch his shoulders, feeling him shudder when her touch passes over the sear of the wound from the lightsaber—the one she gave him that, now, feels like so long ago.

As she feels him he looks up, a sudden shyness in his gaze, but even then their mouths move of their own accord, joining them together in a sweet, lingering kiss. His hands roam over the plains of her back, and hers a steady rub over the meat of his chest, the joint of his neck, his hair. He moans as she takes her fill of it in her hands, their silk as soft as the slide of his tongue past her lips, rippling a shudder of fleeting ecstasy between them.

His hand urges her to mold more fully against him as they continue to invade the other, and here, Rey can feel, the heated passion lurking under the surface of his barely-restrained control. He teeters on the balance of gentility and cruelty, kept impatiently suspended by nothing but _her._

It is a swift movement neither can fully discern—whether he lays back, or she nudges him down—but she is taken down with him, and here balance does not matter. Rey sighs under the dizzying satisfaction, feeling light, as though hanging from her legs, looking at an upturned world—a world so different from all she used to know.

As they kiss, his hands wander down, fingers ghosting wantonly over her rump. Something _very_ unladylike erupts from her lungs and she flushes, parting, gasping for air, the dizziness fading as she fights for some semblance of composure.

It’s a hopeless battle. Her flesh sings under the sliver of cloth between her and him—begging to know his touch there, too. Everywhere. When Rey looks down his eyes are hungry, wide and consuming, his lips flush and swollen from her kiss. She looms over him, her arms quaking with the effort, as his fingers dip under the hem of her waistband, giving her body what it wants.

Her hair spills over her shoulder, framing his face as it remains steadfast. But it’s too much—her inexperience floods her with a vengeance, her arms collapsing under the swell. He welcomes her with a nuzzle as she buries her face in his neck, inhaling the humanity of his scent as he kneads her rounded flesh.

A throb cries from between her legs, heat encompassing, its need for stoking like a jealous god. It’s then that she feels it—something not her, but _him—_ twitching against her core. She seizes the opportunity, the good scavenger she is, and presses herself against him, shifting to feel as his hardness probes her hidden desires.

Ben huffs, loudly, in her ear, his hands racing to clasp her hips and shift her against him, encouraging her. She chases it—the pleasure of his body and hers, not fully touching, but altogether _right._ The air around them hums, Force energy amassing like the clouds before a storm. She turns her head and he kisses her, and she kisses him, pushing him like he pushes her, each a tangle of will and frustration.

The feeling, the Force, follows the erratic gyration of Rey’s hips, her subdued sounds building, punctuated as he rolls into her with harsh grunts. She can feel the sweat from his brow, from his hairline, and kisses them, too, tasting the sweet salt of passionate exertion, of their wanton abandon.

Enthralled by the rhythm, Rey can feel herself rising, climbing higher and higher, reaching a peak she had only ever found alone. “Ah, _hnn,”_ she pants into his ear, subdued by their urgency and the gaining speed of his control over her. _“Beh…_ Ben—”

“Rey,” he gasps, his voice pitched and strained. He throws his head back into the pillows, a muffled moan behind his lips, and she can feel that pulsating energy concentrate between her legs—and continue even after his hands go tight and still.

Rey pauses, the sound of her name from his mouth intoxicating, but sobered by the sudden halt of her impending release. She sits up to see his eyes screwed shut, his lips pried apart in silent cry, and realizes that he must have…

Oh.

Rey sits up, resting on his thighs. In the low light and dark cloth of his trousers, she cannot see what is most certainly evidence of his… _excitement._ He opens his eyes again, the unsteady undulation of his chest reaching a calm altitude as his lashes flit languidly towards her.

At this Rey feels many things at once—Satisfaction at this power she holds over him, disappointment that such power would be so short-lived.

He catches on, stroking her thigh, his voice a low rumble again. “Sorry, I—”

“It’s okay,” Rey interrupts, timidity winning out. She lets her hand fall onto his belly—so hard yet soft all at once!—and blinks, reminding herself that not everything can go according to plan. Or, in this case, unabashed instinct. “It’s okay…” she pants. “We’ll try again… some other time…”

When she moves to stand and reclaim her dignity, he lurches, snaring her in his arms. The world flips again as he turns, laying her underneath him, pinned by the welcome weight of his body. Heat strikes through her under his searing kiss, the pressure of him igniting her all over again.

He hovers over her, his thumb ghosting tenderly over her cheek. “Please, not yet,” he whispers, nuzzling her neck, placing tender licks and kisses into her skin. “Please, Rey—not until you cum.”

Rey shudders, her legs falling open as arousal floods between them. Though she’s never heard such a term before—she knows all too well what it means, and yes, _yes,_ “Yes,”she gasps, bracing her hands in his hair, holding him against that same spot on her neck.

“I want to make you feel good,” he murmurs, pressing his tongue instantly against her collar, glazing her with spit. “So good…”

The smell of him, the stroke of him, the sound of him, makes her writhe and moan in reply. “Yes…!”

His mouth trails lower, lower, down down down, around the soft of her breasts, wandering with aimless purpose until she’s tugging him against her groin, unable to stifle the ache. He moves his lips, breath warm on her stiffened peak, as he stares at her in all his dark earnesty. “...I just don’t know how,” he admits, voice thrumming through her as he scales lower, kissing her belly, his hands passing reverently over her hips to take the lip of her skivvies in his curling fingers. “Show me...”

Breathless, Rey looks down to find his hair mussed, something like warning in Ben’s eyes. Dauntless in the face of him, relishing the sweet feeling of his fingers so close to her mound, she relaxes into the pillows at her back, and nods. “Alright.”

A victorious—or perhaps fearful—gleam flickers in his gaze. He wets his lip and tugs and Rey arches, sighing as he slides away the last of her clothes. She basks under the caress of his stare, the slide of his fingertips against her thighs, her knees, her shins, and her ankles, the movements intoxicating and slow.

He tosses it aside, his hands moving to unfasten the clasp of his trousers, shrugging them down his hips. Rey’s eyes bulge at the sight of where his skin grows coarse, dark hair—even more so when he removes them and his boots completely—and stands on his knees before her, her equal in exposure.

Tenderly, he strokes her legs with the backs of his fingers, sitting between them. He bends each at the knees, leaning to kiss their knobs one by one, spreading her as she gapes at the length of his manhood resting long against his thigh. She gulps, wondering what it would feel like in her hands.

“You first,” Ben murmurs, staring between her legs, a deep flush streaking across his cheeks.

“Wh-What?” Rey asks, distracted.

He folds his lips, as if to summon his determination, ghosting his fingertips over her wrist, her fingers igniting under his touch. “You first,” he whispers.

She pauses, but for only a moment, before following a familiar motion, her hand moving down between her legs, over the hair, and through her folds. She parts them, the brush of her own fingers coaxing the burning fire within her. She moves her fingers in steady circles, letting him see what she has only ever done in private, her pleasure stirring again.

Ben watches, openly enraptured, overcoming his initial hesitance with a swirling eagerness. It palpitates through their bond, spurring her on as he kisses a trail from the inset of her knee to her thighs, bringing himself closer to watch as Rey’s fingers work her soaking core.

The sight of him brings on a wave of heat from deep inside of her, her body a primed starship awaiting the final jump. She swirls faster, instinctively chasing her orgasm, her jaw falling open with the effort of its capture.

She moans when his hand shoots up the inside of her thigh, brushing over her fingers, following her movements. Reluctantly, and then all at once, she withdraws, letting him replace her there.

The feeling is unlike anything she’d ever felt alone—the glances for her approval nearly sending her over the edge. She whines in need and fists her hands into the sheets as he explores, but does not discover, and her release escapes her again.

“Ben—”

“All of it,” he growls, his fingers sliding further between her folds. “Show me _all_ of it.”

Whimpering in the face of this sweet torture, Rey concedes, desperate to cum with those eyes on her. She quickly tosses her reservations aside, returning her hand to her swollen bud. His knuckles bump into hers, a glimmer of affection in the spark between them, before he dips a thick finger inside—pumping in and out.

“Hn— _mn,”_ she moans, shock and pleasure gathering between her legs, crashing through her in waves of arousal. “I’m so close—I’m so close...!”

A chuff is his only reply, his focus honed intently on moving faster, dipping into her, sliding effortlessly through her body with that transfixed expression on his face. His attentions, the added stimuli, the hum in the Force—all of it—roars in her ears.

And then her insides shatter, ruptured under their inexorable symphony.

She falls from her high, her arched back crashing down onto the mattress, the pleasant aftershocks rippling under her skin. When she opens her eyes, bleary and drunk, she spots him staring at his hand, turning it under the low light of the room. They shine with a thin sheen before disappearing into his mouth, his lips closing over them to suck them clean.

Rey shudders, thinking she may cum again.

He releases his fingers with an obscene slurp, something almost like pain, or relief, or something else, passing like a shadow over his face. He groans, and in one, lunging swoop, descends between her thighs, his massive lips and tongue engulfing the swollen layers of her cunt.

It’s too much—too much! The blinding pressure envelops her still-sensitive body, but even as she whines, he doesn't seem to care. Rey cries out, shock knifing up her legs, her blood so hot it’s cold as his onslaught sweeps gravity out from underneath her, leaving her helpless to defend against her body’s cry for _more._

He hums a deep reply, his nose bumping against her clit, lips brushing the curls on her mound as their supple flesh molds against her, his tongue probing inside. She squirms in his grasp, her hands throwing themselves into the damp waves of his hair.

“Touch yourself,” he commands deeply, lifting her hips from the bed. He runs his tongue along her slit, slow, punctuating it with a kiss that makes her vibrate.

Rey sucks in a breath, running her hands over her breasts as he watches hungrily. She moves to do as he says, excitement alive in her again, but before she can touch he dives forward, sucking her fingers into his mouth. His hot tongue swirls against the sensitive webs between each digit and knuckle, his eyes burning coals as they hold hers captive, watching as she writhes with unbearable satisfaction.

Too soon, he slides away, leaving them cold and wet and throbbing, before he places a fat kiss to her cuticles, and returns to laving his sinful tongue against her dripping folds, lashes fluttering closed as he caresses her with his mouth.

When she touches herself she cums almost instantly—a rush of the impossible, a second wave of orgasm, seizing more tightly, unwinding more freely, pushing her to the edge. “Don’t stop! Don’t— _Don’t stop!”_

He moans, increasing his pace, swallowing her whole as she bucks into his face, giving him all she has left before her mind floods with release, her body slumping and boneless even as he holds her up, easing away with lingering, intimate kisses.

He sets her down reverently. “Rey…” he murmurs, lips shining, eye twitching. Behind his gentle tone, Rey can see, a beast lurking in his eyes, dark and dangerously compelling.

It’s then that she sees it, in the wild flurry of her mind, in the pulsing beat of the Force around them, in his lap… a jutting, unmistakably angry slab of flesh.

Surprise winds around them both, somehow easier to sense, at this development. Rey gawks, amazed to find him this way. And it seems he is too, by the way he stares and flushes, his face and shoulders bathed red in the soft light.

Rey sits up, unable to take her eyes away. “Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head, pouting in that way he does when telling partial truths.

“It’s so... _”_ Rey murmurs, coming closer. She reaches for him but stops, searching his eyes. “Can I touch it?”

“Yes,” he huffs, taking her wrist, splaying her fingers over his abdomen, letting her do as she wills.

Rey offers him a small smile, unsure what to do with herself—unsure what to do with _him—_ and kisses his chest, right over his heart. She slides her hand down, enjoying the way he shivers when she caresses his shaft, and wraps her fingers around him.

“Ungh,” he whimpers. _“Rey…”_

Power and heat surges through her at the sound, her voice husky as she strokes him, learning the silken wrinkle of his hot skin beneath her hand, following instinct—or, perhaps, his projected thoughts. “You’re so big, Ben,” she sighs into his neck, kissing him there. “You feel so good—”

“Rey,” he pants, “Rey, please, I won’t last. I—” he gasps when she touches the head of his cock, his weeping arousal smearing the pad of her finger. _“Kriff.”_

“I want to feel you inside me again,” Rey whispers into his hair. She squeezes him, as gently as she can, letting honesty rule her tongue. “I want _this.”_ As he looks at her, she holds his gaze, slipping her finger into her mouth. He tastes like skin and salt and sweat—perfect.

A snarl erupts from his throat, the look in his eyes black and feral as he snags her by that wrist, then the other, kissing her down onto the mattress. She tastes herself on him, too. She is musky, like meat—a distinctly pungent flavor that only seems to heighten this consuming need to feel him inside her body, to fill her completely.

The Force trembles, heavy and thick in the air, as he fits himself between her legs, hovering over her. Her arms go limp under the massive hold of his hands beside her head, her heart pounding, body throbbing, weeping for him.

Rey can feel the thick shaft of his cock floss between her folds, hot and silky and teasing. She writhes against him, and he her, his chest as flushed as his face.

She looks up at him in the near-darkness, her soul on fire as he holds her gaze, and then her face, kissing her again until that taste is gone—leaving only them.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice soft, his touch softer, caressing the hair at her nape as he catches her gaze once more, his eyes warm and searching.

Rey nods, something almost like joy welling inside her as she pulls him down by the back of his neck for another kiss, feeling his swollen lip folded by her own.

Ben sighs, and deepens the kiss, moving forward until his hips widen the spread of her legs even more. She wraps them around him, feeling the strong muscles of his calves underfoot, his hair on her toes, and then the sliding, sudden pinch of his entry as he fits himself inside her.

Something tangible snaps in the air, the Force’s thrum gasping in their lungs, binding them, penetrating them. Suddenly, she sees herself as he sees her, and an overwhelming blend of emotions assaults her, thoughts of scattered things—things she never thought anyone could feel when they looked at her.

In a blink the experience evens out. For a moment she can see a tear in his eye, but he kisses her soundly, thrusting deep inside. She hisses with the stretch of him inside of her, his body—and all other extremities—large.

He catches on, though, waiting for her to move before he pulls away. His patience burns out like a candle’s wick, his body moving over her, around her, _within_ her—just as she knows she surrounds him.

It feels like a battle this way, their minds muddled as grunts and sighs are lost into the open room. The bed collides against the wall as he ruts, the Force trembling static through the air, weaving in their skin until every touch could be what shatters them both. It’s no different from the sweat on their brow, their backs to the cold, sparks flying, the ground splitting in two. When she closes her eyes she finds that place— _feels_ as she felt when, for that one moment, they were indistinguishable.

 _Balance_.

She shifts and he gains speed, aided by her arousal. His arm flails to hold her, snagging on her hair. “Oi!” she cries, smacking his chest with a warning laugh. He kisses her jaw in silent apology, rocking into her with steady, reproachful strokes.

She gasps as she feels her body climbing, his groin sliding so perfectly against her, sending tendrils of pleasure to her toes. “Ben,” she whispers, needing him to hear just who he is to her—who he should have been all along.

“Rey,” he gasps, planting his lips in a sloppy, slanted kiss over her own. “I, _hah,_ wanna make you cum, wanna fill you up with my cum...” The Force imbues itself inside, miraculously, and Rey feels something inside: a jumble of blinding desire. She feels how desperately he wants her to cum, to _be_ the one that makes her, to fill her with everything he has to give.

His mind molds between them, those thoughts a near-unintelligible mush, but it only makes her yearn for everything he offers, a surge of wetness her body’s reply.

“Harder, Ben,” she goads, tightening her legs around him. “More, more, _please!”_

“ _Kriff,”_ he hisses, pounding into her. The ricochets of his force slams inside of her, the energy between them beginning to crest.

He turns them onto their sides and Rey adjusts, throwing her leg over him as they move and blur, equals again in this relentless dance.

_Harmony._

“Rey… You’re… _Mmph, oh…”_ he moans, slow and long and deep, without the energy to hold himself up much longer. His head buries itself beside her ear, his voice rasped and pitched as he buries himself deep inside, again and again, their control spiraling far from reach or hope of recovery. “So tight, so _right...”_

As he speaks she cranes her neck, capturing him with a kiss, unable to find any word that will be enough to match these feelings inside of her. This sense of hope and power, of lust and—

Her crest is close, just within reach. She slithers her hand down between them and he shudders, pulsing inside of her as his hand bats hers away, his frame hulking as he moves to replace it. “No. Me,” he grunts.

Rey cries out when his fingers, all four, move violently across her clit, making her spasm and jolt as he thrusts through his release. His breath fans over her cheek, perhaps across the whole galaxy, desperate and yearning, and it’s enough. The Force buries invisible claws inside of her, the pleasure of being ripped apart tearing a scream from her throat, leaving it scratched as her mind slowly reemerges from the fog and returns her to her body—lying entangled with _his._

They clasp one another and breathe, every inhale as tremulous as the last until the energy returns to its comforting hum, a quiet presence surrounding them with warmth and peace.

_Ecstasy._

Ben wraps his arms around her, kissing her shoulder, her neck, her chin, her lips—holding her securely against him. She does not put up a fight, not in her sated state, and winds her arms around his neck, nestling under his jaw. They fit like they were made to; it’s more than she ever imagined it would be—this sensation of wholeness and belonging she feels in him, _from_ him, as he lies beside her. Something like relief. Happiness.

“You know...” she pants into his collar. “We couldn’t have done this if you hadn’t surrendered...”

He reshuffles them, taking his turn to bury his head into the crook of her neck, groaning, “You don’t plan to let me live this down.”

Rey smiles, threading her fingers through his hair, basking in these impossible things. “I don’t.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> [Art by [Selunchen](https://selunchen.tumblr.com/)!]


End file.
